by Gaja J. Kos
Sander wasn’t talking about sex. Or about his pissing contest with Veles.
It had never been about any of that. Not really.
She exhaled, then reached for that resolve tucked inside her—that small bit of determination that had sprung to life after Pia’s death. After the pack had known, without a doubt, that their world was going to shit unless they did something to stop it.
The Vedmaks were already aware of her existence. Of her identity, too.
The pack needed every damned ally they could get, and despite the Koldun’s unexpected kindness towards Evelin, he wasn’t on their side. Not yet.
Not when there was still a bloody ravine lying between her and Sander, filled with questions and suspicions and past actions that meant so little in light of what they were facing.
He could join them or he could walk away. But there was no in-between left.
As much as she hated to admit it, the world had turned black and white. And they all needed to get with the program if they wanted to reach the other side of the shitstorm alive instead of retiring to the underworld.
“Sander,” she purred, the energy inside her accumulating, “ask your question.”
The Koldun cocked his head to the side, small forget-me-nots that rested in the bed of his curls shifting with the movement. But while his face was a lethal mask of aggression, she didn’t fail to notice the hint of hesitation that had washed over him at her blunt words.
“I will only make this offer once,” she warned.
Sander’s nostrils flared, and for the first time, Rose allowed him take in her scent—the scent of her power.
His eyes narrowed. “What are you?”
“The goddess of earth-bound souls. A keeper of the gates between this world and the next.” She fixed her midnight-blue gaze on him, infusing the gold specs until they glowed with warm, divine energy. “And the half-breed daughter of a Vedmak.”
Chapter 4
Sander’s bronze eyes darkened like a summer’s storm sweeping across the horizon, the shadows dancing within his irises whispering of violence that was on the verge of tearing itself from the constraint of his skin.
The split second he lunged, Rose rolled off the table, the sword of Mokoš ready and firm in her hands. But even her preternaturally fast reaction was almost sluggish compared to Veles’s response.
The god was already standing between her and the pissed-off Koldun, power rippling off his broad shoulders and honed body until the air was so thoroughly saturated with it, Rose wondered if it would catch flame. Sander, however, didn’t seem fazed by the display.
“Step aside, Veles,” he sneered.
“Do not make me force you off my premises, Koldun,” he replied, the tone icy, although Rose sensed the barely leashed wrath pooling beneath. “I assure you, you will not like your next destination.”
The two men stared at each other. Veles a cool, elegant blade of darkness, Sander the white-hot blaze of the sun. It didn’t take a genius to know who would erupt first.
“How dare you stand there, threatening me, while you’re plucking vamps out of existence like the world is some fucking playground for you to do whatever the fuck you want. Or did you think your little side mission escaped me?” Sander whirled around, now glaring at a stern-faced Serafina. “And you—you knew, didn’t you? You knew she was a bloody Vedmak half-breed and you still wanted to fuck her—”
“Enough.” Veles’s voice sliced through the ironic serenity of the day.
Rose tightened her hold on the sword, her energy resting beneath the surface. Waiting.
“Do you truly wish to become a part of my side-mission, Sander?” Veles drawled, but his tone was dangerously sharp. “Or are you still throwing tantrums simply because I fucked one of your women?”
As Sander turned around once more, Rose stalked from behind the cover Veles’s body offered. Unsurprisingly, neither of them had even noticed her move.
“Ah, no, wait,” Veles said, his tone dangerously calm. “My mistake. This is about Rosalind. But it has nothing to do with her ancestry… No, it has everything to do with the fact that I got to her first. I would have said that this is beneath you, Sander. But, alas… I’ve known you for far too long to make such mistakes.”
A low groan slipped from Rose’s lips, but, in a way, she could understand why Veles was baiting him. The Koldun had made it pretty clear what he was to her on more than one occasion. A threat. One she could deal with, true, but that didn’t change the staggering volume of his hostility.
Only Sander’s blatant hatred for her wasn’t the sole culprit for Veles’s outburst.
The past weeks had been hard on all of them. And while she sympathized with the pack’s struggle, what she and Veles were fighting against was… Overwhelming didn’t even begin to cover it.
They were consorts, something the world hadn’t seen since Mokoš and Perun, yet they hadn’t been able to snag as much as a couple of hours for themselves…
This endless battle with desire of literal divine proportions was making Veles testy. She was doing a bit better, but not by much.
And the beefcake… She growled. The perfect mark.
This would have been so much easier if the circumstances were different.
“You don’t know shit,” Sander shot back. “I don’t give a fuck whose legs you’re spreading. If a Vedmak abomination is something that pleases your playboy taste, I couldn’t care less. But I am not going to stand here and pretend that—”
Golden light exploded before he could utter another word, erecting a solid barrier between the two power-ridden men.
“Cut it with the macho bullshit! Both of you,” Rose snarled. “Veles, I’m sorry. I love you, but whatever beef you have with Sander, this isn’t the time or the place to vent. And you”—she spun towards the Koldun in question—“you’ve been pestering me about what I was since that damned day in the circle. You stalked me, for Belobog’s sake! Yes, Serafina knew of my heritage. She knew it before I ever told her a bloody thing.
“I don’t know if it’s the blood of Mokoš connecting us that whispered to her, or if it’s the fact that she’s a damned fine witch—but she knew, and she didn’t judge me for it. Because unlike you”—she glared—“she wasn’t blinded by some discriminatory, hostile rule, but rather saw me for who I am. Not what I am. For fuck’s sake, I’ve said this so many times that I feel like a broken record, but let me try again… I never asked for this power. Have I accepted it? Yes. But I didn’t do so with open arms. If you won’t take my word for it, ask Morana.
“She is one of your goddesses after all, is she not? Or have you turned your back on the pantheon your kind is supposed to serve?” Sander opened his mouth to answer, but Rose sent out a harmless pulse of energy, just potent enough to let the Koldun know she wasn’t done. “Look, I’m sick and tired of fighting. My father’s people are already angling to kill me, so I honestly don’t need to add you to the fucking count. I’m not your enemy, Sander. The Upirs, the Keepers—and yes, even the Vedmaks—they’re the ones you should be pissed at.
“In case you missed the memo, our so-called protectors are more than glad to let the two-souled bastards run around, rallying vampires and infusing their minds with ideas of supremacy. If they prevail, do you honestly believe the sacred circle will be left untouched?” She arched an eyebrow, then slowly sheathed the sword across her back, feeling its weight settle like an old friend. “You introduced us to Rorik, to someone who can help us stop the shitstorm that will touch every damn thing in this realm. Perhaps the rest of them, too. I don’t believe for a fucking second you would have done that if you didn’t care. If not for us, then for the Perelesnyks.”
“Rosalind.” Veles’s voice curved around her as she approached the Koldun, but she sent him a wave of reassurance, hoping it would be enough to keep him on the sidelines.
At least until she said her piece—and Sander had the chance to decide just what he wanted to do with the information.
> “For the last time, Sander, I am not your enemy,” she said softly, yet the steel lining her words remained. “Serafina understands that. She has for a while.” She laughed bitterly. “Chernobog knows I’ve made mistakes—unforgivable ones—and I’m paying for them every damned day of my life. But I’m not the threat you should be worrying about.”
Sander snorted, bronze muscles bulging under the simple beige tunic he wore. “By law, you shouldn’t even exist,” he snapped, then marched past her without another word, only the ripples of wind speaking of his anger.
Rose watched him leave, watched his broad shoulders scream with tension until the shaded interior of the manor enveloped him whole, and the Koldun—ally or foe—disappeared from her sight.
But not her mind.
“Well, that was intense.” Rorik blew out a whistling breath, his gaze falling on her face.
Evelin ignored him.
Just as she ignored every other damned pair of eyes that burned into her back as she quickly padded into the house after Sander.
Everything Rose had said had been the truth, but she just didn’t have it in her to leave the Koldun alone. He deserved more than that.
While her eyes needed a moment to adjust to the darkness of the cool hallway, she tracked the scent of spring and power, noting the turmoil embedded within. The kitchen opened up to her left, but the trail led her farther in—all the way to the other side of the house.
“Sander,” she called out as she approached the smaller, shaded patio, stopping just before the sliding doors.
The Koldun was standing with his back turned to her, his spill of gold hair radiant even without the touch of direct sunlight playing with the rich pigment. For a moment, the sight stopped her dead in her tracks. Because despite the power, despite the strength visible even now, Sander was the embodiment of a solitary man. In his own way, perhaps, an outcast—by choice or design.
She bit her lip, waiting. But Sander didn’t answer, didn’t as much as stir as she stood there, unsure whether to go to him or just walk away. Perhaps this had been a mistake—
The light, blooming caresses of spring engulfed her body in silent invitation.
Somewhat gingerly, Evelin strode up to him. She was close enough to feel the heat rolling off his skin, a rippling of wilderness that seduced her senses with its haunting melody.
A part of her wanted to reach out, to soothe the storm, but the command for caution, hardcoded within her very DNA, refused to yield to the impulse. So she simply stood by his side, casual yet alert, and gazed into the distance. As did the Koldun.
Wearing the phantom velvet of his spring, Evelin blocked the voices that pressed from the other side of the residence and let the seconds stretch into minutes.
“Do you trust her?” Sander finally asked, his gaze leaving the pine trees to fall on her.
The anger, the violence—it gave way to something else. Respect for her opinion.
She dipped her chin. “Rose is pack. I trust her with my life.”
“She isn’t a full-blooded were…” Darkness shifted in the bronze of his eyes, but his tone was gentle, so at odds with the harsh words that sliced through the air.
A hint of a smile tugged on Evelin’s lips. “She is a were in every aspect that counts.” When the Koldun didn’t answer—but also showed no inclination of terminating their discussion—she continued. “I understand that it goes against your instincts, against your beliefs that someone like Rose walks the earth. But it’s the same with the Keepers and Rafael—”
“It’s not the same, Evelin,” he cut in, the sound of her name on his lips stunning her into silence. “Children born to Vedmaks and those who do not possess witch-blood are forbidden because the outcome is unpredictable. The power your pack mate wields is unpredictable.”
This time, she did place her hand on his arm. “So is Rafael’s. The Keepers want him because he’s unique. Because he has the wolf-man’s power within him—and, in effect, Psoglav’s. He’s a White were who can shift, Sander. And you said it yourself—he responds to the magic of the sacred circle. Werewolves aren’t like that. We don’t have magic. But Rafael does. And so does Rose.”
Small forget-me-nots swayed as Sander shook his head. “She is on the path of becoming a goddess. Not a minor deity, but one of the Pantheon. I felt it, Evelin. The entire coven felt a stirring in the power of the earth. They don’t know who bears the mark of the ascension, but even the old crones who spend their days in seclusion would know it’s her if they caught a whiff of that energy she emanates. Deities shouldn’t be born this way. Not out of a forbidden coupling. Not with powers that cannot be determined until it’s already too late.
“The Pantheon died. It was reduced to only those deities who are still needed to further the evolution of our world. She…disrupts the state of things, the tentative peace that settled upon this realm after Kolovrat fell.”
“What if this is the precise reason Rose survived? Why she’d beaten all the odds?” Evelin’s fingers curled around his biceps, pressing into the heat of his skin. “What if the Vedmaks have been unable to find her until her powers started to grow, until she was able to defend herself against their strength, because the world needs another deity?”
Amusement broke the hardness of Sander’s face. “You believe in fate?”
“My pack mate is a goddess. I think fate isn’t such a far-fetched concept. Do you?”
He snorted, mirth and disbelief slithering through his body, locking up then releasing his corded muscles. Evelin let her hand slip from his arm, but Sander caught it before it could fall down to her side. She stilled as his fingers wrapped around hers, fighting to keep the bond airtight so that nothing of this could slip through a crack and pummel straight into Mark. His disapproval had been a living thing when she had gone into the house after Sander—he couldn’t come barging out here. Not now.
“Please, Sander,” she said softly. “I placed my trust in you, I turned to you for help. And nothing has changed. I’m not asking you to like Rose, not even to accept who she is. I’m simply asking you to not walk away.”
The air around her shimmered with warm, fragrant power as Sander took a deep breath. His thumb drew a circle on her skin. Then another. And another. Until, finally, those magnetic eyes met her gaze.
His voice was a bare whisper as he said, “I’ll stay. For you, I’ll stay.”
“Thank you.” Evelin nibbled her lower lip. “And it would be nice to hear more about how Rafael is doing, when you’re in the mood for—”
A sound reached beyond the dampener she had put on her senses. Beyond the line of safety she had set between her and the rest of the pack. Immediately, she spun around and dissolved the wall, now hearing the hurried thud of footsteps with clarity.
“Someone’s coming,” she warned before she slipped her hand from Sander’s grip and crossed the distance to the house, the Koldun a silent, yet not unpleasant presence looming behind her.
“Evelin! Open the damned bond if you’re sitting on your ears!” Zarja yelled from the hallway before she stormed into the room. Her hazel gaze skimmed Sander standing just outside the patio doors, her expression unreadable, then focused on Evelin who had barely stepped over the threshold. “Frank just called. We need to move—now. A bunch of vamps just attacked Pri Sojenicah.”
Chapter 5
Ileana leaned against the elegant mahogany counter running down the length of the wall as she poured herself a fresh cup of coffee. The fourth of the day. The pleasant aroma filled her nostrils, wisps of steam rising from the hot liquid and creating a temporary wall between her and the crowded rectangular room that stretched into the distance, all the way to the large windows overlooking Manhattan’s southern skyline.
She closed her eyes for a brief moment, determined to enjoy the normalcy of a steaming cup. But even her favorite drink did little to stem the restlessness pulsing inside her.
As much as she liked being informed, the local meetings of the higher-ups were
something she wouldn’t mind skipping entirely. Her contacts tended to provide more information than the three or four hours the power players spent together to discuss the developments in the world ever could, yet leaving wasn’t an option. Not when those same contacts had brought some troubling rumors to her attention.
Rumors that had everything to do with the people here today.
Her gaze skimmed the sparsely, yet tastefully, decorated room, taking in the thirty-seven supernaturals lingering around the large, oval table that dominated the middle of the space.
The members of the New York chapter of the higher circles.
Slowly, Ileana monitored each and every one of them from her casual perch by the counter, noting the barely noticeable winks of tension. Of anticipation. Even an odd kind of eagerness—although, in some, that sentiment was obviously fueled by the thrall of fear.
They hadn’t broached the dreaded subject in the two hours they had already spent cooped up in here. But Ileana knew they would. If not for anything else, their intentions were clear from the way they averted their eyes whenever she looked at them. Assholes.
She sighed, allowing the steaming coffee to wash away the embers of anger rising within her. Emotions were of no use here. The only thing the higher-ups listened to was reason, and even that, at times, had the potential to fail.
Silently, Ileana hoped this meeting wouldn’t fall into the latter category.
Clutching her mug with both hands to keep her claws from getting any ideas, she returned to the table and reclaimed her position on the eastern end. Garrison, the brown were sitting on her right, remained impassive, but the glawackus on her left stirred uncomfortably.
“Is something the matter, Ian?” she asked matter-of-factly and raised the coffee to her lips.
The tall, gruff shifter met her gaze, then turned to the vampire seated at the head of the table. As Cornelius dipped his chin in answer, Ian sat up straighter, his muscular arms coming to rest on the gleaming dark wood, following the important, asshat manual to a T.
